Charlotte Philby's Parental Leave: I've spent the past half an hour on the receiving end of my daughter's death stare

A mother's weekly dispatch from the pre-school frontline

"Do you know that soon it will only be grown-ups?" the three-year-old announces, one finger lodged firmly up her nose as we stroll back from the swimming pool. I am already feeling uneasy, having spent the past half an hour on the receiving end of my daughter's unbroken death stare as she bobbed from one end of the pool to the other, clutching floats at arms' length either side of her body. An "acclimatisation technique" which takes place while the more experienced class members dive and splash on either side of her like euphoric mermaids around a slow-moving boulder.

"It's humiliating" my husband whispers as we head home. I look down for signs of trauma. On cue, she speaks: "Soon it will be all grown-ups 'cause all the children will get big, did you remember that?" Ah yes, I say, willing to indulge such conversation to distract from the ice-cream van which looms at the end of the street.

Although, I add – recalling a recent chat about ageing, it's not quite like that. You see, when those children grow up they will have their own babies, so it will never only be adults. She nods, thoughtfully. "Is that like when I was a baby I was in your tummy but now I'm a big girl so there was a new baby in your tummy, but now there will NEVER be ANY more babies in your tummy EVER AGAIN?" "EXACTLY", my husband replies.

Hmmm, I say, actually it's not quite like that. "That's because I was in your tummy when I was a tiny baby. But you know before I was in your tummy, where was I?" she gasps suddenly. Oh look, I shout, an ice-cream van!

@philbycharlotte